Global Apocalypse: My System Is Always AFK

The dinner broke up slowly, everyone carrying the weight of the evening’s revelations in their own quiet way, but Ethan lingered at the table with Wren after the others had drifted off, sensing there was more the fragile boy-shaped fragment of a lost world hadn’t yet said out loud.

”You went quiet near the end there,” Ethan said gently. ”After the system read that fragment. What were you thinking?”

Wren turned his cup slowly in his hands, staring at the tea without drinking it. ”I was thinking that I’ve spent so long being scared of the wrong thing,” he said. ”I built this whole story in my head — the Concord destroyed my garden, the Concord is the villain, the Concord is what I need to warn everyone about. And that’s true, as far as it goes. But if the tide’s actually the thing that started all of this, then the Concord’s not the beginning of the story. They’re just what happens partway through it, after enough people already lost.”

”That’s a hard thing to sit with,” Ethan said.

”It is,” Wren agreed. ”Because it means the actual enemy isn’t something I can point at and say ’that’s what took my home.’ It’s something that’s been quietly waiting this whole time, underneath everything else, and I don’t even know what it actually wants.”

The Watch’s council convened the following morning, the full weight of Wren’s account and the system’s recovered fragment now properly, formally on record, and Ethan watched the assembled delegations absorb the shape of a crisis considerably more layered than any prior threat this network had faced.

”We need more information,” Kaia said, methodical as ever. ”Everything we have right now is fragments — a folklore reference from my own family’s archive, a corrupted memory from the original world, and Wren’s own secondhand childhood stories. That’s not enough to build a strategy on.”

”Agreed,” Sundari said. ”But I think there’s a more immediate question first. We know the Cleansing Concord is approaching. We don’t know when formal contact will actually happen, or how much time we have before the Convergence Authority itself makes contact.”

[NOTICE: The system would like to offer relevant information on that point, having continued monitoring the boundary’s condition since the expedition’s return.]

Ethan glanced toward the assembled council. ”Go ahead.”

[NOTICE: The boundary’s thinning has accelerated noticeably since the expedition’s crossing yesterday — not dramatically, but measurably, consistent with what Wren has described as the natural progression toward full contact. Based on current rate of change, the system estimates formal contact from either the Convergence Authority or the Cleansing Concord itself will occur within the next several days, rather than weeks.]

The council absorbed that with visible urgency, the timeline suddenly, uncomfortably compressed.

”Then we don’t have the luxury of a slow, careful investigation,” Malachar said. ”We need to prepare for both possibilities at once — genuine understanding of what we’re facing, and readiness for whatever contact happens first.”

Ethan spent the following two days in a blur of parallel effort — coordinating defensive preparation with Priya and Malachar on one front, while personally overseeing every scrap of research Kaia, Sundari, and the system could gather on the other. Wren, gradually finding his footing, contributed what fragments of memory he could bear to share, each one carefully, gently extracted rather than demanded.

It was on the second evening, reviewing everything they’d assembled so far in the courtyard’s makeshift research tent, that Ethan finally allowed himself to voice the question that had been sitting, unspoken, at the center of everything.

”What if we’re wrong about the Concord,” he said, addressing Wren directly. ”What if they’re not actually going to try wiping us out the way they did your garden? What if they’ve changed, the same way I’ve watched Malachar change, the same way you’re changing right now?”

Wren considered the question carefully, something thoughtful crossing his ancient, weary features. ”I don’t know,” he admitted. ”I never met anyone from the Concord directly. Everything I know is secondhand — stories my garden told each other, based on what little survived long enough to be witnessed.”

”Then maybe that’s exactly what we need to find out,” Ethan said. ”Not assume the worst before they’ve even shown up. The Watcher told us three prior Convergences went their way. It didn’t tell us they were cruel about it, or that there wasn’t room for something different this time.”

Malachar, listening nearby, nodded slowly. ”That’s a fair instinct. I built an entire throne on assuming the worst about everyone who might disagree with me. It cost me a decade of genuine connection. I wouldn’t want to watch this entire network make the same mistake, at a considerably larger scale, before we’ve even properly met the people we’re supposed to be afraid of.”

The formal contact, when it finally came, arrived not with the dramatic, cosmic fanfare Ethan had half-braced for, but with the same understated, procedural formality the Watcher had first demonstrated at the boundary.

[NOTICE: A transmission has been received.]

Ethan, in the middle of an otherwise ordinary breakfast, set down his cup immediately.

”From who?”

[NOTICE: The signature matches the Convergence Authority — the same designation the Watcher previously referenced. It is not the Cleansing Concord itself. The system believes this is the formal, procedural first contact the Watcher warned might be coming.]

”Play it,” Ethan said, already standing, the rest of the courtyard’s residents drawn by the sudden shift in urgency.

The transmission resolved slowly, gold-violet light gathering into a considerably more formal, structured presence than the raw, weathered voices Ethan had grown accustomed to — measured, careful, carrying the particular, deliberate neutrality of an institution that had clearly done this exact introduction many times before.

[TRANSMISSION: THIS IS A FORMAL NOTIFICATION FROM THE CONVERGENCE AUTHORITY, THE GOVERNING BODY RESPONSIBLE FOR OVERSEEING PROPER PROCESS BETWEEN MULTIVERSAL NETWORKS APPROACHING CONVERGENCE.]

[TRANSMISSION: YOUR NETWORK’S BOUNDARY HAS THINNED SUFFICIENTLY TO CONFIRM AN APPROACHING CONVERGENCE EVENT WITH THE NETWORK DESIGNATED ”THE CLEANSING CONCORD.” THIS TRANSMISSION SERVES TO FORMALLY BEGIN THE PROCEDURAL PROCESS GOVERNING SUCH EVENTS.]

The courtyard held its collective breath, the assembled residents absorbing the true, unavoidable weight of the crisis they’d spent the past several days investigating finally, officially arriving.

”We’re listening,” Ethan said, addressing the transmission directly. ”Explain the process. All of it, not just the parts that sound reassuring.”

[TRANSMISSION: THE PROCESS BEGINS WITH A FORMAL AUDIT, CONDUCTED BY THE CONVERGENCE AUTHORITY, EVALUATING BOTH NETWORKS’ STABILITY, GOVERNANCE, AND STRUCTURAL RESILIENCE. THIS AUDIT INFORMS THE EVENTUAL RESOLUTION OF THE CONVERGENCE, WHICH TYPICALLY RESULTS IN THE LESS STABLE NETWORK’S RESTRUCTURING OR ABSORPTION INTO THE MORE STABLE ONE.]

Ethan felt his jaw tighten. ”That’s not really a process. That’s just a formal way of saying whoever the Authority decides is ’less stable’ gets erased.”

[TRANSMISSION: THE TERM ”ERASED” OVERSTATES THE TYPICAL OUTCOME. HOWEVER, THE AUTHORITY ACKNOWLEDGES THIS PROCESS DOES NOT PRESERVE THE LOSING NETWORK’S INDEPENDENT STRUCTURE. YOU RAISE A CONCERN THAT HAS BEEN VOICED BY PRIOR NETWORKS FACING THIS SAME PROCESS.]

”And?” Ethan pressed. ”Has anything ever come of those concerns, or is that just something you note and move past?”

There was a pause, brief but noticeable, before the transmission continued.

[TRANSMISSION: THE AUTHORITY’S CHARTER INCLUDES A PROVISION, RARELY INVOKED, ALLOWING FOR ALTERNATIVE RESOLUTIONS TO BE PROPOSED, PROVIDED BOTH NETWORKS FORMALLY AGREE TO CONSIDER THEM.]

Ethan felt the same, familiar spark of stubborn hope that had carried him through every prior impossible institutional confrontation this entire story had produced.

”Then that’s exactly what we’re gonna do,” he said. ”Propose something different. Same as always.”

[TRANSMISSION: THE AUTHORITY NOTES THAT SUCH PROPOSALS HAVE HISTORICALLY BEEN REJECTED BY THE CLEANSING CONCORD IN ALL THREE PRIOR CONVERGENCES.]

”Then we’re gonna be the fourth attempt that doesn’t get rejected,” Ethan said, voice steady despite the weight of the odds against him. ”Schedule the Audit. We’ll be ready.”

The transmission faded, and the courtyard settled into tense, resolute quiet, the reality of the coming Convergence finally, fully present in a way that no amount of prior investigation had quite managed to convey.

[NOTICE: The system, monitoring the aftermath, would like to raise one final piece of information — something it detected buried within the transmission’s own metadata, not part of the formal message itself.]

Ethan glanced over, wary. ”What.”

[NOTICE: Embedded in the Authority’s own transmission signature is a secondary designation, formatted the same way the earlier ”priority target” flags were formatted during the governing tier crisis.]

[NOTICE: It appears the Convergence Authority has already begun compiling a formal case file on this network — extensive, detailed, apparently drawing on information gathered well before this morning’s official contact.]

”How long have they been watching us,” Ethan asked, feeling a fresh, uncomfortable chill settle over the morning’s already heavy weight. ℯℯ𝘭.

[NOTICE: The system cannot confirm precisely. But based on the depth of the case file’s contents — details about the Grinding, about the governing tier crisis, about events the Authority should have had no way of knowing about through any channel the system is aware of — it believes the answer is considerably longer than anyone in this courtyard has previously assumed.]